Finally Clean
by AndAllThatMishigas
Summary: Post-episode for The Portland Trip.


Author's Note: I listened to Taylor Swift's Clean and it reminded me of Leo and I cried and then this happened.

 **Finally Clean**

Leo entered his hotel room and sighed heavily. It had been a long day. A very long day. He dropped his keys on the front table and tossed his briefcase onto the sofa. After hanging up his coat, he descended into his usual armchair, utterly exhausted from the day's events.

He stared off into space, thinking. Pending the recording with the court, he was, for all intents and purposes, divorced. His Catholic mother was surely rolling in her grave. This was never what he intended. But the damage had been done long ago. After all the things Jenny had stood by him for, she just couldn't do it anymore. And really, he couldn't blame her.

Leo shifted in his seat and reached into his pocket for his wallet. Way in the back, behind various credit cards and membership and identification documents, he took an old, crinkled photograph out. He'd put that picture in his wallet in 1972, as soon as he'd gotten it. He stared at Jenny's beautiful face, smiling and laughing at the camera. The white of her dress and veil highlighted her red hair. God, she was gorgeous. They had been happy at one point. But for Leo, something else always seemed to be more pressing. More important. And for almost thirty years, she'd let him get away with it. Perhaps he'd figured she always would. Until she didn't.

He knew they hadn't had the romance of the century. No great love to rock the ages. But he figured they were normal. They loved each other, they got married, they had a child, and they lived. Leo had thought from day one that the Bartlets, with their devotion and teamwork and undying passion, were special. Lucky. But maybe that's what married couples were supposed to be like. He and Jenny certainly were never like that. And maybe she realized they never would be.

All of a sudden, his mouth felt dry. He got up to get a glass of water, but he stopped. Leo glanced down at the photograph still in his hand. He could feel it starting. He had ways of resisting, certainly. But just for now, he didn't want to resist.

Leo ignored all the reasons why he shouldn't and called room service. The waiter arrived within minutes, and Leo tipped him generously. After closing the door, Leo got a glass and some ice and sat back down.

The amber liquid caused the ice cubes to crackle within the glass. Leo sat for a moment, looking at the glass of scotch, the picture of Jenny sitting beside it. He pushed the sound of Margaret's scolding voice out of his mind and downed the alcohol in one go. The familiar stinging warmth filled his body. With a smirk, Leo poured another glass. And another. And another.

Before he knew it, he was stumbling around the room, knocking things off bookshelves and pushing furniture out of his way. Everything else had melted away, and all Leo was left with was the sensation of drowning in his own failure. He had failed his marriage. Utterly and completely.

As he made his way back to his armchair, he stubbed his toe on the coffee table. He cried out in pain as he fell into the chair. And once he'd started making a sound, he couldn't stop. A loud, visceral scream of pain unlike any other escaped his lips. The throbbing of his toe had dwindled, leaving just the pain of everything else. His mouth was dry again. He kept drinking. Anything to wash away the guilt.

After a while, the bottle somehow had run empty. At this point, he could no longer see straight. Leo had to keep a firm grip on the chair to keep from spinning. In a last fit of desperation, he threw the bottle straight up with all the force he could muster. It shattered against the ceiling and a shower of glass shards poured down. The pieces bit into the exposed skin around his collar and the top of his head and his tension-filled hands. And then, everything seemed to slip away. Leo closed his eyes and let the darkness wash over him. Though he couldn't help but notice that his mouth was still dry.

* * *

An electronic melody erupted in the quiet darkness, shocking Leo awake. He reached over to grab the phone. "Hello?" His voice was very hoarse.

"Did I wake you up?"

Leo frowned and tried to read his watch in the dark. "Margaret, what time is it?"

"Almost three."

"Of course you woke me up!"

Margaret paused on the other end for slightly longer than was comfortable. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

Leo clicked on the lamp and looked over to the table. The glass of scotch was sitting there, untouched. The ice had long since melted, leaving the moisture of condensation to create a ring on the wood. The nearly-full bottle stood beside it, equally ignored. Jenny's picture was just where Leo left it. He looked away and smiled. "I'm fine, Margaret."

"You didn't drink?" She sounded suspicious.

"Nah. I'm clean. I'm not gonna risk it."

"You're sure you're okay?"

He wasn't going to answer the same question twice. "Margaret, what the hell are you doing awake at this hour?"

She paused again, reluctant to answer him. "I couldn't sleep. I was worried about you." Margaret didn't finish the rest of her thought. _I sleep when he sleeps_. And there was no way Leo would be getting any sleep tonight.

"You don't need to worry about me," he insisted.

"Of course I worry about you! I'm a worrier, Leo. I worry about all the people I love."

Leo smiled. "I love you, too. But you're no good to me if you don't sleep. So go get some shut eye and I'll see you at seven tomorrow."

"You got it, boss."

They each hung up. Leo got up from the chair and stretched. He hadn't even taken off his suit jacket. He'd barely loosened his tie. But before getting undressed, Leo took the bottle of scotch into the bathroom and poured the entire thing down the sink. He went back and picked up Jenny's picture, dropping it into the glass of scotch without another thought. The acidity of the old photograph quickly dissolved the image in the alcohol. Leo shut off the light and went into the bedroom. He took a deep, cleansing breath and couldn't help but feel like it was the first breath he'd taken in a long time.


End file.
